


April

by Dragonlitterchanger



Series: April Fools - The Joke Is On You [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Genetics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 19:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 8,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4191786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonlitterchanger/pseuds/Dragonlitterchanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Ficlets about what happens to Mycroft and Greg after they've moved in together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Premature

”They called,” Greg was out of breath as he ascended the stairs, calling out.

“Who called?” Mycroft’s voice carried easily out from the bathroom.

“They! _Them_! It’s started.” Greg used the doorframe to stop his forward momentum before he plunged headlong into Mycroft and the tub.

“That’s too early!” Mycroft paled and lost his perpetual cool for a fraction of a moment. “Weeks too early!”

“I believe these things can be quite unpredictable. Not really something you can set your clock by.” Greg pulled at Mycroft to get him out of the bath, and he followed easily, letting Gregory wrap him in a velvet bathrobe.

As Mycroft dried and dressed Greg stomped back and forth impatiently, sighing with every third step, his furtive glances at Mycroft clearly informing him that he was too slow. Finally the vest and tie were in place and Greg pushed Mycroft out towards the landing.

“Hang on, I have to make some phone calls first,” Mycroft halted him. He dialed for a car, and then dialed another number. While he waited for the pickup he complained to Gregory. “It’s not supposed to be unpredictable with _Them_. Apart from the obvious genetic developments required they should also be better able to handle the timeframe than this shambles.”

“Nature is involved. That is by definition unpredictable,” Greg huffed. “Anyway, you can complain to them later. For now we have to get there, or we’ll be missing it.”

“We won’t miss it. We’ll be there shortly, do breathe Gregory. You’re becoming quite agitated.” Mycroft had reinstalled his composure and once again felt in control of the situation. “Oh hallo,” he said when the call was finally answered. “Codename Primogenitus,” he said, and added “actutum.” He hung up and took Gregory’s hand, leading him down the staircase.

“Is this really happening? Are we becoming dads now?” Greg grabbed their coats as he pushed Mycroft out the door in front of him to the waiting car.  
  
“Certainly not. I’m becoming a father. You’ll be the mother.”

“In your dreams, Mydarling. You get to do all the breastfeeding. “

“I am afraid I have no nutritious value to offer a newborn. Another solution has been prepared, and will be implemented in time.”

“Of which we have none! Come ooooon!”

“Worrywart!”

“Procrastinator!”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Now get in that car.”


	2. Arrival

“She’s in so much pain, can’t we help her?” Greg whined.

“You can’t go in there, no. She can’t see you,” Mycroft cautioned him. 

“You have better be paying her a lot,” Greg winced as another moan cut through the air.

“I am.” Mycroft was not smiling, so Greg knew that insane amounts were in play. 

“She has no idea who we are? That there’s two?”

“Not a clue, no. They are very good at what they do here. Ah, something is happening.” Mycroft leaned forwards, intense concentration shining in his eyes.

“Oh God, this is it. I’ll never again not worry.”

“Worrywart!”

“Yeah, but I’m good at it. I’ve worked with Sherlock for so long.”

“True, daddy.”

“What? Really?”

Mycroft smiled and hugged Gregory. “Yes, you’re a dad.”

“Then so are you.” Greg didn’t even bother to hide his tears.


	3. Father

John: “Seriously? So who’s the dad?”

Greg: “I’m the father.”

Mycroft: “No, I’m the father.”

Sherlock: “No, I’m Spartacus!”

Everyone: “Shut up, Sherlock.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. But mummy?

”Does mummy know?”

”No, not yet. For practical reasons,” Mycroft said.

“Keeping your sanity?” Sherlock suggested.

“There was never any peril proposed to my lucidity from my maternal origin. I merely sought to cover all eventualities and prevent a premature elated emotional state in the event this matter was not satisfactorily resolved.”

“What do you mean, Mycroft?” John sifted through the words without finding any that didn’t slip through the cracks in his mind.

“This has not been a straightforward procedure. Gregory and I had some particular demands that had to be met. Consequently experimental genetics have been in play, as well as a very human gestation assistant, so there was always a chance of some calculation error, or a less than satisfactory overall outcome. Which would have led to severe disappointment in mummy had she been privilege to prior knowledge.”

“But everything is…?” John prompted.

“Ten fingers, ten toes, two of everything there should be two of, yes. It will be a day or two before the baby is released to our care, there are still some particular scans to run, but it would appear that there are no problems whatsoever.” Mycroft sighed with obvious relief.

“So, that’s why you two have kept it so secret, even from your mother,” John stated.  
  
“Oh, ho.” Sherlock perked up. “You haven’t told her anything at all. Not even that you were planning this. Can I tell her?“

“No.”

“Can I be here when you call her?”  
  
“No.”

“Can I be here when she arrives?”

“No.”

“Can I be here when she sees the baby?”

“No.”

“Mycroft, ease up. Sherlock is family too. You have to start thinking about that now that we are about to become a real family,” Greg put an arm around Mycroft, squeezing him reassuringly.

“Good grief! You are not planning to start spending Christmas holidays here, are you?” a startled Mycroft asked John and Sherlock.

“We most certainly are, Mycroft. Now there’s stockings to be filled and a toddler to play with. Your Lady mum will not miss it so nor shall we, right Sherlock?” John grinned broadly.

“Can't wait,” Sherlock grinned, but only because he knew how much it annoyed Mycroft.


	5. Babysitters

”I am never babysitting.”

”Yes, we are, Sherlock. Don’t worry, Greg. Of course we will.” John rolled his eyes at Sherlock’s obstinacy.

“Thank you, John. But let me assure you that Sherlock is quite correct,” Mycroft nodded at his little brother.

“No, of course not alone, the poor thing would find itself slammed between two glass slides and showed into a microscope. I meant when I’m present, clearly,” John stated what he felt was the obvious.

Sherlock snorted.

Mycroft snorted.

Greg grinned and winked at John.

 

 

 

 


	6. Last chance sex

”Every room? You are mistaken if my otherwise youthful appearance gives you the impression that I am a teenager. I simply do not possess such a level of stamina. Nor do I see the need for such drastic actions.”  
  
“You don’t? This is the last day, maybe forever, that we can have sex in any room we want at any time of the day without worrying that the kid will walk in on us. We have to create a lot of memories. Right now!” Greg emphasised his statement by starting to undress.  
  
“I already have a lot of wonderful memories of you and this place. Not that I would mind taking you up on your creative offer, what man could refuse? However, there is a small matter of Miles and Chef…”  
  
“Gave them the day, and night, off. I’m having dinner on you,” Greg interrupted him.  
  
“I take it you mean that quite literally?” Mycroft smirked, gave up the resistance and shed his clothes by the dresser.  
  
“You bet, with lots of sticky dessert.”  Greg was now gloriously naked and walked over to embrace Mycroft. “Where to first? The hallway?”  
  
“As I’ve stated, I do not find myself capable of supplying sexual gratification on a scale that is equivalent to the architectural layout of our abode,” Mycroft warned him as he pulled Greg closer, letting his fingers dance playfully across the golden skin.  
  
“We don’t have to shag in every room,” Greg reassured him with a grin. “I could blow you in the hallway, rim you in the guestroom, snog you in the kitchen… no wait, I have plans for that table, so I’ll snog you in the pool room, all right?”  
  
“Hallway, you said?” Mycroft asked and pulled Greg downstairs.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, the hallway. Fair warning (means we'll also be upping the rating to E). Hope you'll hang with me. Hands up anyone who doesn't want sex!


	7. The hallway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blow!

 

  
When they entered the hallway Greg pushed Mycroft up against the massive oak front door and feasted on his neck. This explicit form of snacking always produced an instant and gratifying response from Mycroft, which Greg particularly enjoyed when they were both naked. He was very much enjoying himself at the moment.  
  
“May I remind you of the number of rooms in this house? I hope you are planning on leaving a morsel or two of me for the pantry?”  
  
“I’ll make sure there’s enough of you to go around. Do you have any wishes for the pantry?” Greg asked in between nibbles.  
  
“To be alive,” Mycroft whined as Greg’s lips started moving south across his chest and abdomen.  
  
“Mmm, mm,” Greg agreed, marking Mycroft’s skin with a wet stripe from his tongue all the way to his groin.  
  
Mycroft jumped a little as he felt the warm breath from Gregory’s mouth _right there_ and then moaned out loud as the room fulfilled its designated task. He buried his fingers in the silver hair, smiling down at the man that brought him such pleasure. As his breathing became laboured and the temperature in the room rose to just below unbearable he felt an urgent need to please Gregory in return.   
   
“Gregory?” he asked in an almost not quavering voice.  
  
“Mmmh?”  
  
“How may I reciprocate?”  
  
Greg reluctantly pulled away to look up at Mycroft. “Basically any way you want to, but I was planning to sprawl myself over the Chesterfield in your office and let you have your way with me. Will that suffice you?”  
  
Apart from the jolt of current that idea sent through Mycroft’s body he protested. “But there’s a million rooms between here and my office.”  
  
“Impatient git. But ok, then let’s share the kitchen table.” Gregory winked and got back on his feet, pulling Mycroft behind him towards the little guest room in the corner behind the umbrella stand.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to tag along for the tour of their house?


	8. The guest room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rim!

“Oh, it had completely slipped my mind that we had this room redecorated and repainted last summer.” Mycroft temporarily forgot just how hard he was, almost getting used to walking with a tent pole between his legs, the enticing dark velvety green on the walls nearly mesmerising him into a relaxed stupor.

“Was your idea in the first place, love. And the colour is fantastic with the new bed. Which I would kindly ask you to lie down on, face into the mattress, knees under you, because I have promised you I’m going to snog the hell out of your arse right here, right now.”

“Ugghn…!” The moan that erupted from Mycroft’s throat like a rocket off a launch pad threatened to shatter the fabric of the room, the windows, Gregory’s spine and the viper hanging between Gregory’s legs. Never the less, Mycroft complied, his fingers clutching the rich velvet cover of the bed, happily ignoring the fact that the colour exactly matched that of the walls. He almost didn’t whine in a _dogs-alone-can-hear-this-frequency_ when he felt the tip of Gregory’s tongue running up the inside, the very inside of his inside leg, towards the very inside of the inside of his … _fucking right there and the tongue was SO deep_ \- that made him pant so loud that any old wallpaper in the room would have voluntarily fallen off the walls, given the humidity levels. Well, that, and the actual age of the house.   
  
Thank Gods they’d had it redecorated.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, sorry, but even Mycroft rambles when put in that situation.


	9. The pool room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snog!

They didn’t go directly from the guestroom to the poolroom. Mycroft was nothing if not very hygienically aware, so he insisted on a detour to the guest room bathroom where Gregory could indulge in a thorough bout with a toothbrush, followed by a refreshing mouthwash, twice. Ok, four times actually, by Mycroft’s gentle prodding.  
  
He ensured that Gregory was entertained while attending to his pearly whites. Mycroft kissed every freckle on Gregory’s back, playing his own version of connect-the-dots. Every moan he drew out of his lover was rewarded with more licks and kisses, till Gregory slammed the toothbrush down on the edge of the sink declaring that he wanted a picture of the final result. Mycroft could have admitted that the pattern his tongue had taken had spelt out something that could, by someone as attentive as a detective inspector, be interpreted as a marriage proposal (St. Paul’s was available on the 4th of August – he _had_ checked.) He told Gregory that it was a pirate ship.  
  
For now.  
  
When Gregory spat out the last round of mouthwash Mycroft braided their fingers together and walked them to the pool room across the hallway. He sat unceremoniously on the pool table (oh, if father had seen _that!)_ beckoning Gregory closer. Greg equally unceremoniously spread Mycroft’s legs and, stepping between them, crushed their bodies and their lips together, forcing Mycroft’s lips apart with his tongue. Henceforth Mycroft would always spell Snogging with a capital S.  
  
After twenty minutes of the most exquisite kissing, Mycroft was ready to beg. So he did. ”Can we go back to the hallway now?”  

  



	10. The kitchen

Greg declined the suggestion of a detour to the hallway. They had enough rooms to cover as it was, so instead, he led Mycroft directly to the kitchen.

Sparkling clean, with so many interesting surfaces, and a big bowl of fruit on the oblong oak table standing parallel to the inner wall, conveniently distanced from all the windows.

“Where would you like to start?” Greg pointed at the various options but didn’t get a verbal answer as he found himself lifted onto the marble desktop next to the sink, a very eager Mycroft mirroring his actions from the pool room, pressing close and delivering a heated kiss that nearly set the smoke alarm off.

“Gregory, I am afraid that I will have to alleviate the situation I find myself in. It is becoming unbearable to contain my current blood level in certain anatomical areas,” Mycroft panted.

“Blue balls, huh?” Greg smiled and kissed his nose. “How about we find somewhere comfortable to do something about that?”

“Do what?” Mycroft prompted.

“How about you top me?” Greg suggested.

“Name the place!”

“Ok, the couch in the hallway?”

“Close enough. Let’s go.” And with that decision made Mycroft pulled Gregory into a tight hug and lifted him off the surface.

He was however not putting him down, and Greg only had seconds to clasp his ankles behind Mycroft’s back before he would have lost his balance. Thus tightly ensconced they made the short walk a very agreeable one.

58 seconds later Mycroft made a reappearance in the kitchen, quickly grabbing the olive oil and running back to Gregory.


	11. The hallway couch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving on...

“Are you kidding me? Don’t we have any lube?” Greg was lying down on the big couch next to the door in the hallway, his right leg enticingly perched on the back making him delightfully arranged for Mycroft.

“Not in the kitchen or hallway, my dear. And your ambulatory supply is usually kept in your pockets, said pockets attached to the trousers you left upstairs. I assure you that the olive oil will suffice. I am not of neither a somatic nor cerebral state that would enable me to suspend my activities long enough to obtain the required alternative.”

“Ok, get on with it then.” Greg wriggled a bit further down on the couch as Mycroft uncorked the oil, and pouring a bit into his hand deftly covered himself before letting his fingers rub Gregory, pushing in just a little now and then till his hand was halted by strong fingers and he looked down into brown, pleading eyes. “Get on with it now, please?”

“You know I can never resist you when you beseech me,” Mycroft said with a smile that almost hid his relief that the wait was over. He lay down on top of Gregory and entered him slowly, holding tight to his lover. He tried to whisper something flattering, but as, what was not uncommon for him, it just came out as a shuddering exhalation.

“Oh God, yes. Just like this. Hold me tight,” Greg moaned, arching up into the pelvis that was massaging him so tantalizingly with every move Mycroft made.

“Mmmaamm,” Mycroft confirmed, holding on even tighter, moving a little faster, breathing a little harder. Eventually, when Gregory’s breath started to stutter in time with his own he moved a little faster yet, letting his mouth fall open, conveniently right by Gregory’s shoulder, who supported him nicely as he moaned loudly in an early announcement of his imminent orgasm. Gregory enthusiastically bucked under him, seeking his own release.

“My, My, My…” was the warning shout that sent Mycroft over the edge at the same time as he felt the warm spurt of Gregory coming against his stomach. He let his mouth be filled by the round, perfect shoulder supporting him, and smothered his cry against the golden skin, holding on tight till the shivering in his body subsided.

“Oh God, that was…” A sweaty Gregory smiled against Mycroft’s ear, looking for the right word, “just bloody fantastic. Can we move this couch to the bedroom?”

“Anything you want,“ Mycroft panted, reluctantly letting go of his supportive shoulder system.

“Really? You’d think it was my birthday,” Gregory grinned.

“For me it’s your birthday every day, you should always be celebrated." Mycroft managed to raise himself up on an elbow and kissed Gregory on the nose.

“You are such a romantic,” Greg smiled.

“Indeed. So where to now?”

“A bath, don’t you think?” Greg suggested. “You go run it, I’ll grab us a beer and a glass of wine and meet you there.”

“Sounds lovely. And then what?”

“Then back to the kitchen to prepare dinner. When you’re recovered." Greg gave him a cheeky smile and slapped his bottom for emphasis.

“May I be permitted to wear an apron for any duration of time spent at the stove?” Mycroft pleaded, as he slowly retracted himself and got up from the couch.

“As long as it doesn’t have a backside,” Greg grinned, and followed him up. “See you in the bath.”


	12. Tub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude.

“Is this the Chardonnay?” Mycroft smacked his lips, tasting the drops on them as he put the glass down on the side of the big tub. This behemoth had been one of his best home improvement investments after Gregory had moved in. They had spent countless winter nights there wrapped in bubbles and each other.   
  
“Of course, I wouldn’t dare bring you a Riesling in the bath,” Greg assured him. “Is it good?”  
  
“Mmmh,” Mycroft confirmed taking another sip for emphasis. “So dinner, any plans for actual food?”  
  
“Yes. To eat it off you.”   
  
“I take it we’re having cold cuts then?”  
  
“Wuss.”

 

 

 


	13. The return to the kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner! ...ish.

”Oh, bugger!” Mycroft howled and jumped to the side as a scorching drop of fat escaped the frying pan and hit him right on the very, very naked part of his butt. “For Pete’s Sake, I told you this would happen,” he complained to Gregory who grinned inanely back.   
  
“Don’t blame me. You’re the one who can’t have a tomato sandwich without bacon. Effin traditionalist!”  
  
“Not so traditional that I haven’t replaced it with Turkey bacon,” he huffed and patted his stomach.  
  
“You really have no need to worry about your weight anymore. We more than make up for our intake with our ... well, exercises.” Greg ‘explained’ what he meant by doing something very lewd to the cucumber he was currently slicing for their meal.  
  
Mycroft’s brain temporarily went into stasis, but it recovered quickly, prompted to action by other body parts. “I am exceedingly curious to ascertain where you plan to put those slices.”  
  
“Oh, it’s not the slices you have to worry about.” Greg wriggled his eyebrows as he put the unsliced half of the cucumber on the plate next to the slices, and put the plate on the table before he turned back to the fridge. “Now, do we have any eggplant?”  
  
“No, and thank heavens we don’t,” Mycroft exaggerated a heavy sigh as he slapped Gregory’s buttocks as he stood half bent into the fridge, looking for morsels for their dinner.  
  
“Then we’ll do without. Is that bacon ready soon?”  
  
“It is now. Will you bring the light mayonnaise and the baguette?” Mycroft plated the bacon next to some tomato slices and chopped salad.  
  
“Hmm… this one? “ Greg held the long bread with both hands, slowly stroking it from the bottom to the top.  
  
“Unhand that bread and put it On.The.Table.Now!” Mycroft ordered him, shaking his head at Gregory’s folly.  
  
“Fine, the bread goes on the table, and so do you. Come here and lie down so I can arrange my dinner on you, I’m starved.” Greg pointed to the middle of the big table and actually licked his lips as he contemplated where to put the salmon, the chopped egg, the hot mustard sauce and all the vegetables.

Mycroft shivered for several reasons. This was either going to be a very long, or extremely short dinner.

 

 

 


	14. Kitchen table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg's Main course!

Mycroft was completely wrung out. And starving. Gregory had been terribly neglectful in feeding him while he had doubled for a tablecloth, plate and occasionally a glass (Beer was horribly cold when poured into a bellybutton). But he didn’t want to protest till Gregory was done lapping up the last of the hot mustard from delicate zones on his body. That stuff stung!

“Oh, that was good.” Greg sat back, licking his chops. “But hot!” He followed that statement by downing his glass of beer (the real one).

“Ok, then help me up,” Mycroft demanded.

“But… I’m not done eating.”

“You’ve been eating like a bird. Three times your own weight! My turn. I am so hungry.”

“Will I get dessert later?” Greg’s smile was exceedingly wicked, and Mycroft’s mind did not associate the word ‘dessert’ with food when seeing it.

“I guess we can have dessert together, but now I want my food. You promised we’d share this table.”

“Fair enough,” Greg said and followed through, helping Mycroft sit up, clearing away a few crumbs here and there. Mainly there.

“But are you sure you don’t want to come before you eat? You look at little … well, not a little, actually,” Greg offered, sympathy dripping from his voice, as he climbed on to the table, lying down in the abandoned spot.

“I do admit to being raucous to a certain level, but I intend to save myself for the bedroom when we eventually retire. “ Mycroft walked stiffly over to the freezer and got a bag of frozen peas. He wrapped them in two tea towels, placed them on his chair and sat on them.

“Really?” Greg raised a questioning eyebrow at him from his prone position.

“This’ll see me through dinner at least. Then you can perk me up again when we get to my office.”

“We do have some frozen chocolate covered bananas in there,” Greg nodded towards the freezer.

“I’ll happily provide one for you.”

“I meant for you, you berk! Keep those things away from any other orifices than my mouth!” Greg whined.

“We’ll see when we get to dessert. Now for my starter.”

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Greg on table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BLT

”What’s with all the tying me down? Aren’t you just having a BLT sandwich?” Greg asked, a bit more than intrigued by Mycroft insisting to bring ropes into play, but quite happy to oblige.

”Yes, indeed, love,” Mycroft confirmed as he gave the ropes an experimental tug, quite content that they were tight enough to keep his DI mostly immobile for a while.“ This particular BLT is Blowjob, Lick and Tickle.”


	16. First dessert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tickled pink!

”You’ll only get dessert if you promise not to assault me when I untie you,” Mycroft assured Gregory, as he bent to kiss the exhausted puddle of DI that was tied to the kitchen table. Forty five minutes of licking and (gentle) tickling, and what a less charitable soul would call edging, had certainly taken its toll, and Mycroft had finally taken pity on him and finished his ‘dinner’. At least he had been eating his sandwich in between, giving Gregory a few minutes here and there to catch his breath. And come up with further inventive swearwords, not that he hadn’t deserved them. 

“I don’t have the energy to assault you,” Greg moaned. “But some day, when you least expect it…”

“Tsk, tsk. I’m not letting you go with that attitude.”

“Mycroft, please… I’m knackered, and my shoulders hurt,” Greg pleaded, and that broke Mycroft’s resolve completely. Seeing those big brown eyes looking so imploringly at him made Mycroft grab the bread knife and simply slice the ropes, rather than taking the time to undo them. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…. HEY!” he hollered as he was manhandled to the floor whereupon Gregory proceeded to tickle him within an inch of his life for several minutes.

Afterwards they lay in each other’s arms panting and giggling till the cold kitchen floor became too inhospitable.

“Dessert?” Greg asked as he got up to get a slice of the iced pound cake out of the fridge, getting two spoons out of the drawer. 

“And a glass of wine,” Mycroft said as he got off the floor and flumped down on a chair. “And then on to the office, I think. It’s time you were sprawled on a Chesterfield. That’ll be my real dessert.” 

“Want cream on that?”


	17. The Chesterfield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With cream!

“So how do you want me?” Greg asked, casually leaning up against the big sofa in Mycroft’s tastefully decorated office.   
  
“Vivacious. Luscious. Delectable. And forever,” Mycroft stated as he gently pushed Gregory down on the sofa.    
  
Greg smiled as he relaxed completely, letting Mycroft arrange his arms and legs. His arms were placed high above his head, and Mycroft pushed his hands together, indicating that he wanted him to braid his fingers.  
  
He lifted Gregory’s inside leg, bending it at the knee, leaning it up against the back of the sofa, while pulling the other leg till the foot rested on the floor.  
  
Then he brought out the cream to paint the contours of the masterpiece, letting the vanilla concoction run down Gregory’s chest, smiling at the mess they would leave for Miles to clean up, and the size of the Christmas bonus he would have to give Miles this year. He painted the thighs, circled the knees, pausing to kiss each of them first, thoroughly cleaned the area of Gregory’s groin with his tongue before lavishing the cream on it, and finally giving Gregory a kiss that left him red cheeked and panting.  
  
Then he got out his camera…

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who haven't read "Fleeing Sherlock" or "A fine line" Miles is the butler at Mycroft's and Gregory's residence on Rosslyn Hill.


	18. Getting there

Greg was walking rather awkwardly as they made their way to the bedroom from the office. After making a lot of permanent memories with his camera, Mycroft had thoroughly cleaned off the vanilla cream covering vast quantities of Greg’s skin. Parts of Greg’s skin were now tingling with a frequency that could set off bat colonies in underground caves. Greg very much wanted to go to bed. With Mycroft. Urgently.

Mycroft seemed to be challenged in his normal stride as well, making haste towards the double doors to their cosy boudoir, but they both halted in their stride when they passed the new rooms. They stopped by the open door looking at the joyful yellow colour on the walls, broken by a painted garland of fairies, dragons, kittens, kites, balls and flowers; the white and golden curtains, the multitude of stuffed toys and the big crib.

“Oh, good God. Tomorrow, darling, tomorrow the real fun starts.” Mycroft’s eyes glistened with anticipation.

“Yes, but tonight I still intend to entertain you exhaustively, and remind you how much fun can be had in our wonderfully soundproof bedroom, even after tomorrow. Coming?”

“Oh, I can verily guarantee you that.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	19. The bedroom.

It was the most enticing sight in the world. Mycroft drew a shuddering breath as Gregory moved his lips up his shaft, only to immediately move them down again, so far that Mycroft feared for his breathing. 

“You have no idea how sexy you look,” Mycroft informed him in a whisper. 

“Mmmhmmhm,” Greg answered, which told Mycroft very little about Gregory’s opinion of his statement, but the hum, added to the suction, and the motion of the two fingers inside him were threatening to send him over the edge, so he hurried to warn his lover. 

“No, no… too much. I’ll… stop, please.” Oh, how he regretted having to say that word, but he would not come before he had felt Gregory inside him, possessing him entirely. He had been gagging for that since they had crawled into their big, comfortable bed. 

Greg pulled away, sitting back on his heels looking forlorn. “But I was really getting into that!” he mock-sulked.

“And I was getting off on that, too off. Too soon. I need you. Now.” The sentences and abbreviated speech were enough to convince Greg that Mycroft was sincere in his desire, so he happily moved to rectify the situation. 

“Lube me up?” he offered, as he reached over to get the bottle from the nightstand, handing it to Mycroft. 

“I shall be delighted,” Mycroft said and poured a dollop into his hand, only shaking slightly as he applied it, both of them sighing as his hand lovingly caressed and massaged. 

“Ok, that’s enough,” Greg said and pushed his hand away, “your hands are too efficient.” 

“Then come, make me yours,” Mycroft pleaded, lying back on the bed, spreading his legs invitingly. 

Greg liked parties, so he accepted the invite immediately, easily sliding in to Mycroft’s enticing heat, moaning with pleasure as he did so. “Always, you always feel so fantastic,” he groaned. 

Mycroft didn’t answer, he was too busy enjoying the state of being completely possessed by his lover, held, taken, caressed, owned, and pleasured, all at once. He bucked up against Gregory to increase the friction between them and whimpered as the motion allowed Gregory to move deeper within him, deep enough to reach that part that set sparks off behind his eyes. 

“Are you ok? Mycroft?” Greg was getting a little worried at the sounds the uncharacteristically uncommunicative man was emitting.

“More than ok. Close. Close,” was the stuttered answer, accompanied by hands desperately seeking a hold on Gregory’s back, pulling them together with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of Gregory.

“Hang on… just a little,” Greg moaned, chasing his own orgasm deep inside Mycroft, sinking his teeth into the very edible shoulder beneath him, giving Mycroft something else to think of for a moment.

The slight pain staved Mycroft’s orgasm off long enough for him to wait for Gregory, and as he felt the surge of pleasure peaking inside him again he threw his head back and yelled out his joy in a guttural nonsensical sound. 

“Oh, God! Yes. Yes. Yes, mmmmm…” Greg responded as Mycroft contracted around him and pulled him with him to the land of bliss and honey. He hammered into the body beneath till he collapsed on top of it, completely spent; kissing the skin that was close enough to his lips for him to do just that without expending any further energy.

“I love you. I love my life,” he told Mycroft.

“I’m going to make it even better. I promise,” Mycroft smiled and shivered with a mix of aftermath pleasure and anticipation.


	20. Goodmorning, Sunshine.

It was almost eight in the morning before Miles announced his presence with a knock on the door before he opened it, rolling in a little cart holding a sumptuous breakfast for the pile of snoring men huddled under the fluffy duvet. 

“Good morning, sir and sir,” he said out loud, ignoring the respective snore and growl from the two bumps in the bed. He strode to the bay window and opened the curtains, revealing a bright and glorious sun filling the room with its rays. He rolled the cart over to the bed. “Would you like to sit up, please? Or I could just leave the cart here and you can serve yourselves. I am rather busy trying to clean the incredible mess sirs left in the house last night.”

“Piss off!”

“Gregory, be polite to Miles.”

“Okay, sorry. Go away, Miles.”

“That’s gratitude for you! Bringing you breakfast in bed with the foresight that you would be challenged in making an appearance in the dining room.”

“We are perfectly able to walk, Miles, we just choose not to, never the less, thank you very much for your consideration.” The bump known as Mycroft appeared from beneath the duvet, his hair an epic mess that spoke volumes about his nightly activities. He sat up against the headboard, graciously accepting the cup of tea Miles handed him, poking the other bump with his foot.

“Have a cup of tea, love. It’ll do you good. Chop chop.”

With a snarl Greg emerged from the cover, moaning as he shifted to sit up, accepting the cup with his eyes still closed. “Thanks,” he mumbled, sipping. 

“Very good, sirs. I’ll just lay out your clothes for the day. The nanny has arrived and is in the process of unpacking.”

Greg’s eyes were now very much open and a smile evolved into a big grin as his brain came fully online. “Today! It’s today. Hurry with your breakfast, Mycroft. We have to….”

“In an hour, love. Our appointment is in an hour. Plenty of time for us to ingest and digest, shower, shave and dress at a respectable pace. No need to get all uncivilized about it.”

“You’re just scared of having to call your mum and break the news when we’re all finally installed as a family, Mr Procrastinator.” 

“I fear no man!”

“Exactly!”


	21. Coming home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting uncles!

Gregory remembered very little from the drive out, but the drive home would always be edged in his memory thanks to the small warm bundle that snored up against him, not even stirring when he gingerly crawled out of the car in slow motion for fear of disturbing the little angel.

He was glad when he saw that John and Sherlock were waiting for them outside the front door, and congratulated himself for talking Mycroft into including them on this big day. 

“Why didn’t you wait inside?” Mycroft asked John.

John grinned. “It would appear Miles has instated new house rules as from today. Sherlock will not be allowed in the house unless either of you are home. He fears for the safety of the new heir. And he makes no bones about it either.”

Sherlock didn’t comment, but his lower lip quivered dangerously. Greg hurried to head off the sulk attack by turning the baby towards him.

“Here, Sherlock. Meet your niece.”

“Can we go inside first please?” Sherlock answered, but the quivering had seized. 

“Right, follow Mycroft.”

Once they were all in the living room the precious was placed, still bubbling away, on the sofa, one proud dad on each side, one butler hovering in the vicinity, one detective and a blogger next to them. 

John and Sherlock stepped up to have a close look.

The baby woke and stared at them. 

Sherlock started, and took a step back. “That is… the genetic work… groundbreaking. You really are both the father!” There was real awe in Sherlock’s voice. 

John smiled. “Oh, my God. She has your eyes, Greg.” John nearly melted into the huge orbs.

“And your nose, Mycroft,” Sherlock added. “It’s a wonder there’s room for a mouth on her face.”

“Shut up, Sherlock. She’s gorgeous. What are you going to call her?”

“April,” Mycroft said with a smile. “In honor of the month we met.“

Sherlock nodded in comprehension.

“April Sherlee Holmes Lestrade, to be exact,” Greg grinned when Sherlock’s jaw dropped.

“Really?” John asked.

“Two birds,” Mycroft informed them. “Yes, Sherlock, she’s named partly after you, and partly after Gregory’s mother, Shirley. Then she can choose for herself which one of you she wants as a role model when she grows up.”

John noted, literally – in the blog – that this was the longest period of silence in recorded Sherlockian history.


	22. Paternity

“So how are you… I mean you’re busy guys. How are you going to raise her?” John wondered, marveling at the sight of Sherlock with a baby on his lap, gently cradling her head, taking shallow breaths for fear of disturbing her. They seemed locked in some sort of stare-down, but since they were both doing it very quietly no one protested.

“Well, first of all we have maternity leave. Fifty two weeks in total, and we’re dividing those between us,” Greg said, never taking his eyes off the duo in the big chair. 

“That’s a lot. Can they spare you from work that long?” John was doubtful.

“They’ll have to. That’s what parents get, that’s what we’ll take. Well, as much as we can at least, within reason.” He paused to sip on the tea Miles had served them all. 

“The first two weeks we’ll be home together. Then Gregory has two months off, then I have two months off, and then we’ll see how it goes from there. Obviously we’ve also hired a nanny,” Mycroft elaborated. 

“Obviously,” Sherlock agreed. 

Greg and John rolled eyes at each other.

“Call your mum, and then introduce the nanny to John and Sherlock.”

“Yes, call mummy,” Sherlock grinned. 

“Despots, all of you,” Mycroft protested.


	23. Calling

“Mummy? It’s Mycroft, I have a bit of news.” - Greg smiled at him with anticipation.  
  
“Hmm? No, he’s actually currently out of both hospital and trouble. Yes, I know." -  Sherlock frowned and growled a little at Mycroft’s chuckle in his direction.  
  
“It’s about your _request_ for grandchildren. Hmm? No, of course it hasn’t gone unnoticed and ignored,”-  Mycroft frowned at the phone and the sound level.  
  
“Sherlock? You must be joking. Of course he hasn’t. What respectable adoption agency would… Don’t abuse my name in that tone, please. No, I did not call simply to disrespect my brother.” - Mycroft heaved a long, impatient sigh.  
  
“Yes, well fact is, you were right. Gregory did indeed have opinions on the matter, and after careful consideration we have not only taken steps, but highly successful steps to have a surrogate carry our progeny to term.” - Greg beamed with pride, his gaze shifting between Mycroft and April.  
  
“Yes, you are indeed, congratulations.”  - Even Mycroft smiled at this point.  
  
“It’s a girl.”  
“No, very healthy.”  
“Yes, new born. What? No, three days old.”  
“Apologies. Yes, sorry, but it was necessary.”  
“Yes, I am. No, Gregory is too. Yes, I will.”  
“Yes, ten.”  
“Quite, seven and a half pounds.”  
“Brown.”  
“Fifty-three centimeters. Aha yes, tall.”  
“April.”  
“Yes, she does, it’s Sherlee.”  
"Actually only partly him.”  
“Yes, both surnames.”  
“Obviously a nanny! Highly recommended.”  
“Of course I’m home!”  
“Yes, he is. Sherlock and John too.”  
“Yes, of course you can.”  
“I will. Half an hour.”  
“Wonderful. Bring daddy.”  
“Miles was born prepared.”  
“See you.” – Mycroft rang off, a few drops of sweat visible on his forehead.  
  
  
“They’ll be here by lunch”, he informed them as he pocketed the phone.

 

 

 

 


	24. Nanny B

The door opened and a determined looking woman walked in. She was dressed in a classic blue dress with a small white collar, her brown hair plaited down her back, her shoes smart, but comfortable. She addressed Mycroft after a brief nod at Greg.

“Welcome home and congratulations on your fatherhood,” she said.

“Thank you. Will you allow me to do the presentations?” After a cursory nod Mycroft continued. “My brother Sherlock, yes, that one - and his paramour doctor John Watson, Gregory of course you know. Sherlock and John, this is Barbara Forth, April’s nanny.”

Everyone hummed hello at everyone else, except Sherlock who was locked in a time bubble trying to outstare April and apparently losing.

“May I acquaint myself with my charge, please?” Barbara asked Sherlock. No response.

John got up and gave Sherlock a kiss. Sherlock looked up at John as if he didn’t know where he’d come from.

“The fairy tale method, works every time,” John grinned at Barbara. “Only works for me though, don’t be getting any ideas.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Barbara assured him as she bent to gently remove April from Sherlock’s grip. At his forlorn look she hurried to reassure him. “A quick feed and change of clothes, and she’ll be right back with you.”  
  
“Actually I would also like to hold my daughter,” Greg protested.

“You held her in the car all the way home. I do believe it’s my turn,“ Mycroft interjected.

“And as your GP I should have a look at her,” John commented.

“I’ll start a roster,” Barbara suggested. “Sorted by age or alphabetically?”

“Alphabetically,” Greg and John said concurrently with Mycroft’s “Numerically.”

Sherlock was quiet. John was puzzled. Mycroft was delighted.


	25. Grandmamma

”Mummy, dearest.” Mycroft bent down to give his mother a kiss on the cheek. “Where’s father?”

“Dropped him off at chambers. The will is to be updated, no time like the present. Where is she?”

“Manners, mummy. Say hello to everyone,” Mycroft chided her. “And do retrieve my father. Why on earth does he have to update the will immediately?”

“Well, you never know what can happen to us on the trip home. Must secure the funds for the new heir. Hello John, sit up straight Sherlock, congratulations Greg. Now, where IS she?”

“She is having a little nap. Being deduced to bits by Sherlock tired her. I’ll send for her right away.”

“Please do.” She planted herself on the sofa next to Greg, turning towards him. “Now tell me, what’s this _we're both the father_ nonsense? Is she yours, or his?” A nod of her head indicated Mycroft.

“She is both. Both our genes were used, and inserted into a donor egg. It’s rather technical, but you can definitely see the result.” Greg smiled at her.

“It’s no point trying to explain it to you, mummy. It would take too long. It was a long process, a lot of untried research implemented, which is exactly why we didn’t tell you about it till we knew it was a success,” Mycroft elaborated.

“Oh, Mycroft! If you can’t explain it to me, why not just admit that you don’t understand it yourself?” She heaved an exasperated sigh. “Kindly let me read the protocols for myself, and I shall figure it out without your intrusive endeavors towards understanding science. Have them mailed to me, please.”

“I’d quite like to have a look at them myself,” Sherlock commented, a contemplative look adorning his face.

“No! Absolutely not!” John nearly exploded out of his chair. “We’re not cooking our own baby in your home lab. Forget it.”

Sherlock, after careful consideration, stuck his tongue out at him.

 

 

 

 

 


	26. Rainbow friendly

“So, you haven’t told your parents either?”

“No, mummy H, we’re going there in the weekend. Maybe I should bring John in case my mum gets a heart attack?” Greg mused as he re-filled the wineglasses at the lunch table.

“Good idea,” mummy said and toasted it. “Though I’m sure she’ll be as delighted as I was. Not in being kept in the dark for nine months obviously, but for finally being granted a grandchild. And she is adorable.” She cast a look down at the bassinet placed between her and the nanny, marveling at the pretty child. “Did they design her with your eyes, or did she just luck out?” she asked Greg.

“Oh, the genetic work is not that detailed. We had no way of deciding what features she’d get.”

“Just luck then,” Mummy smiled and turned her attention to the nanny.

“Been a nanny long?” she asked.

“Eighteen years, mam. Two positions,” Barbara answered.

“Ah, good. You’re in it for the long haul. Mycroft and Gregory chose well. So tell me, Barbara, you don’t find it a problem that the child has two parents of the same gender?”

“I don’t understand the question, mam,” Barbara answered, as she tasted her wine.

“Good girl.”

 

 

 

 

 


	27. Happiness, thy name is yellow walls...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and baby in the halls

He sighed once more, quite unable to tear his eyes away from his beautiful daughter in her beautiful crib in her beautiful rooms, even though he had her beautiful dad waiting for him in his bedroom. _Choices, choices! Well, if one must…_ he thought, a sudden vision of Mycroft’s taught buttocks in his mind spurring him on to get on with things and leave the nursery. 

                              
“All right, goodnight Babs,” Greg said and immediately continued, “oww, oww , oww, that really hurts!”  
  
“I’ll let your ear go, Detective Inspector, the moment you promise never ever to call me that again.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Barbara… err, Miss Forth.  Won’t happen again.”  
  
“Good, but kindly call me Nanny B in the future. Now, go to bed and make that man of yours happy. I have the baby monitor, so you two can sleep safely. I’ll wake you if there are any problems, don’t worry.”  
  
“…good grief, the woman is managing my sex life too,” Greg mumbled under his breath as he exited the nursery, one last fond smile towards the crib.  
  
“What’s wrong, love?” Mycroft asked as he noticed Gregory massaging his sore earlobe.  
  
“Don’t ever, and I mean never ever, call her Babs,” Greg informed Mycroft and went to brush his teeth.  
  
“It’s highly unlikely that I ever would have, but I consider myself duly warned. Thank you.” Mycroft hid his smile as he removed the bedcovers and then disrobed, hanging his jacket in the cupboard, turning back to put his trousers on a chair, since he wanted them nearby in case he had to get up and handle any and all baby crisis that could possibly arise during the night.  
  
Before he could turn back around, however, he felt two large hands cupping his buttocks and a sweet breath in his ear whispering “If you thought becoming a dad would make you less sexy you were sorely mistaken. I've wanted you all evening. It was the longest dinner of my life.”  
  
A familiar spark of desire ran the length of Mycroft’s spine as he slowly turned to embrace his lover, rewarding his patience with a heated kiss. “And your sexiness factor just shot up quite a few points,” he panted when they broke. “But absolutely no calling me ‘daddy’ in bed,” he admonished.  
  
“I don’t plan to talk at all,” Greg promised as he pushed Mycroft onto the bed, following quickly, placing himself between Mycroft’s legs, lowering himself till they were flush chest to chest and filled his mouth with Mycroft, cutting off any leeway for words.  
  
It was rare for them to simply rut against each other till completion, but this was a very special night so they indulged in this slow but loving way to find relief. Mycroft came first, since Gregory was on top of him, and he really liked that, but his scream of completion brought Greg off the edge with him, and in short order they were panting together, fighting to regain normal breath, sated and tired.

They came to a bit sudden as the baby monitor buzzed once and Nanny’s voice came on, rather dryly informing them that “for the room to be soundproof the doors actually have to be closed. Just thought I’d let you know.”  
  
Dead silence ensued for a while till Greg whispered, “fire her, or give her a raise, just do something!”  
  
“The amount has already been transferred,” Mycroft reassured him and replaced his phone on the bedside table. “Since we’re not letting her go.”  
  
Alarm lights were installed before noon the following day, glowing bright red if the doors were left open more than zerozeropointone degree.


	28. Baby’s first day

 

It was a good job that Mycroft and Gregory were used to rising early, because April set a fast pace for the house. At six she was hungry, alert, and so so so very utterly bored. And she absolutely refused to sleep. For a moment Mycroft worried that some of Sherlock’s genes had sneaked their way into her, but then he realized that they obviously had, given the family ties. Well, it was six in the morning, so he forgave his brain for that little slip.  
  
Consequently Nanny B was busy moving the basinet from place to place in order for the view to constantly change. But in only minutes April had consumed all the available data about this new observation point and demanded attention and action.  
  
To alternate this entertainment Greg was instructed to coo and babble for fifteen minutes in between. An action that earned him undivided attention to such a degree that it was actually tricky to get him to stop it again.  
  
By noon Mummy had all the black and white paintings and prints from Sherlock’s old nursery delivered, and they were installed in April’s rooms. Finally her mind found something worth playing with and she seemed utterly delighted.  
  
“Well, that middle name was aptly picked,” Greg admitted as he threw himself into a chair, exhausted with his cooing and antics, delighted that April was happy now. “Amazing that her vision is so clear. Newborns can only see a foot or so ahead, she seems to take in more though.”  
  
“I’m afraid so. I have ordered an array of mobiles delivered so we can change them at least once per day,” Mycroft concurred.  
  
“We’ve got ourselves a handful, haven’t we, My?”  
  
“A handful and a half. Beauty and brains. We’re in more trouble than I had anticipated,” Mycroft huffed.  
  
“Oh, nonsense, gents. She’s perfectly normal, if a little impatient. No two babies are alike, but they all instil utter terror in their parents for the first couple of days. That’s how they train you,” Nanny B consoled them as she took April off for her lunch feeding. “Just wait till she’s a teenager,” she snickered as she left the room with her charge.  
  
“She’s a cruel, cruel woman,” Greg sighed.  
  
“Indeed. She’s perfect for this household,” Mycroft grinned and got up to pour them both a large pint from Gregory’s beer bar.

 

 

 

 

 


	29. Priorities

“Gregory, would you kindly send an urgent text to Anthea for me?”

“Sure! What is it?”

“Tell her to send a memo to POTUS with the text ’Cancel today’s elections for now. They may resume at a later point in time. Unable to personally monitor in order to ensure peaceful outcome at present. Postponement unavoidable.’ Got that?”

“What The Actual Fuck? You’ve been working at this for sixteen years! The first free elections in that God forsaken country! The very thing that everyone said would never happen, but you never gave up. And you’re postponing it? What is going on?”

“She’s holding my fingers, and will not let go. There is no way I am leaving here today.”

”Mycroft Montgomery Hilary Holmes! Get Out That Door, Get To Work and Save Democracy! RIGHT NOW!” 

 

 

 


	30. First outing

 “What is that pile?” Mycroft looked horrified, surveying the chaos in the hallway.  
  
“It’s the stuff we need for the visit at mum and dad’s place,” Greg informed him. “Nanny B has packed most of it.”  
  
“We’re only staying one night,” Mycroft wailed and made a sweeping motion encompassing Mount Diaper.  
  
“You’re going overnight?” Nanny B looked horrified. “Then you’re going to need a lot more stuff, wait here.”  
  
“More?” Mycroft looked crestfallen and considered calling for a bigger car.  
  
Greg went to get their own overnight bags, but when he returned to the hallway, Mycroft was nowhere to be seen.  
  
“Sugarbuns?” he called out loud, ready to duck the flying object that was the normal response to such syrupy endearments.  
  
Silence.  
  
“Lambkin…?”  
  
Still silence.  
  
“Tootsie…?”  
  
Now this at least produced an audible response in the form of a rasping ripple of dry heaving from the direction of the guestroom. Utilizing his finest detective skills Greg followed the clue and found Mycroft huddled up on the edge of the bathtub in the little guest bathroom.  
  
“What’s up with you? “ Greg asked, concern mellowing his voice as he knelt in front of his love.  
  
“What have we done, Gregory?” There was a storm of emotions in Mycroft’s eyes, and Greg swore he could detect an edge of panic to his voice as well as slightly rapid breathing. He thought he recognized the symptoms from his sister. When she became a mother the first time she had sought sanctuary with him for a couple of cozy hours in a local pub.  
  
“Our lives will never be the same. They do not even belong to us anymore. I am drowning, weighed down by a colossal anchor,” Mycroft almost whined.  
  
“Well, well, sounds bad,” Greg acknowledged and immediately knew what to do. “Come with me, love.” He held a hand out for Mycroft who automatically grasped it, seeking what comfort he could get and followed Greg willingly.  
  
Greg led him directly upstairs to the nursery, and pulled a little harder when he felt a slight resistance from Mycroft. He didn’t let up till they were standing next to the crib, looking down at April who seemed delighted to have their company. She bubbled an eloquent hello and kicked the mattress five times with sheer happiness, her eyes shifting between them.  
  
“You are right. It’ll never be the same again, love. But it’ll be better. She is the pinnacle of what we are. She is you, your blood, your brilliant mind, your legacy. And I will always love her for that.” Greg paused to stroke the smile wrinkles that had appeared around Mycroft’s eyes. “And she is me. Therefore she will always love you. So yes, it’ll never be the same. It’ll be even better. We get to guide her into the world, and share the marvels with her. It will be a fantastic journey, Mycroft. We’re attached to a giant balloon, not an anchor, love. Don’t worry.”  
  
Mycroft didn’t answer him at first. Just took him in a warm embrace and kissed him lovingly. Finally he smiled and nodded. “But you carry the blasted heap of diapers.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the short ficlets. Thank you for following them. It’s been fun to write in this format. And fast. Now I’m going back to more normal sized chapters as we follow the life of young April, and her ever challenged dads in the next story in the series, "Raising April".


End file.
